


all the things i knew inside

by nerdytardis



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Backstory, Character Study, Gen, Original Character(s), Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-25
Updated: 2019-05-25
Packaged: 2020-03-14 16:12:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18951559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdytardis/pseuds/nerdytardis
Summary: His father was a clockmaker.





	all the things i knew inside

**Author's Note:**

> title is from the song "Father and Son" by Cat Stevens  
> sorry for the mistakes i missed and thanks for reading!

His father was a clockmaker.

Precision was vital in everything the man created; every piece needed to be exactly balanced to work correctly with the one next to it. 

He expected perfection in his work, and nothing less when he got home. 

Thomas could never seem to fit in the place his father wanted him to.  He was a twisted wire, a gear with too many teeth.  He threw everything off. 

His father tried to flatten out Thomas’s warped qualities with discipline.  Long hours cleaning up the shop, a strict curfew, a slap around the head when he was caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to. 

But even when he tried his hardest, got all his chores done just so, even when he _knew_ he was right—his father would manage to find something out of place. 

The anger that started to boil up inside of him was deep and dark and sticky as pitch.

At least the clocks were fair and right.  Each part had a job that it fulfilled perfectly, ticking round and round all day long.  They made sense when nothing else did. 

Thomas would take the clocks apart and put them back together, dissecting them to puzzle out what made their little metal hearts beat. 

 

His mother was a saint. 

He could still remember a time when he young and took a tumble off his bike.  His father had berated him for crying at something as simple as a scraped knee, but his mother had scooped him and taken him to the safety of his room.    

She told him that crying was sign of bravery; that giving your emotions to the world took courage.  Holding him tight, she told him that he was going to have to be very brave for the rest of his life.

At the time, he was too little, too naïve, to know what she meant. 

 

His first love was a boy.

In school, Thomas used to watch the back of his head instead of the teacher.  He went out of his way to talk to him, to catch his eye.  At the time, he thought he wanted them to be friends. 

He couldn’t figure out what made this boy different from the rest of their school mates.  It took him far too long realized it wasn’t the boy who was different—it was him. 

 

His sister was a pretty girl. 

She was older and more popular than Thomas, but he couldn’t even resent her for it.  She was sweet and kind and fit in with the other kids.  He was the awkward one, with his mother’s nobly knees and fair skin. 

“Maybe he’s a vampire.” One would whisper in the hall.

“Or a ghost.” The friend was whisper back.

When his father’s business finally cracked under the Swiss competition, they moved to London.  It was loud and dirty and full of more people than Thomas had ever thought possible. 

It didn’t take long before his sister figured out that she could slip out much easier here.  She made more friends, louder ones with more money.  She stopped coming home. 

The debt collectors came by often enough that they were as familiar as family.  Thomas knew each one by their knock on the door. 

They tried to move to stay ahead of them, and Thomas got used to having little but the clothes on his back. 

The little money they had dwindled.  Thomas got a job at a restaurant to get away from his father’s anger.  He lied about how much he made and kept most of it for himself.  The lie was easy, slipping like silver from his tongue after all his years of practice. 

One day there was a new knock.  The police inspector told them that his sister had been arrested for trying to steal a woman’s handbag. 

Without anyone else to blame for his failings, his father turned to Thomas.  But Thomas was older now.  He knew more of the world than either of them would admit. 

He applied to any position he could stomach.  When he got a reply, he managed to scrape together enough money to buy his train ticket.  He became a new cog in a new machine. 

 

The butler was like a God.

A mere hall-boy, Thomas marveled at the respect that everyone paid him.  A plan began to form in his young mind. 

Someday, he would be in charge of a whole house.  Then, he wouldn’t have to struggle to fit into everyone else’s lives—all the little pieces would spin around him instead. 

 

Mr. Bates was an unexpected nuisance. 

After everything Thomas had done, he got skipped over for an old man who could barely walk.  It was his father all over again—nothing Thomas did would ever be good enough for these people. 

His anger made him stupid and sloppy. He needed to get out, to start over, but he was stuck.    

Then some far off archduke was killed.  Thomas saw the opportunity for what it was and took it without looking back.

 

The trenches were hell. 

Even the stench of London would be a breath of fresh air after the hours of wading through the blood and muck. 

Downton became like a dream, a fairytale that he told himself to stay sane. 

When he saw even a glimmer of a chance to get back, he took it.  He wasn’t cut out for the army.

“You’re not cut out for anything.”  His father’s words crawled their way into his head as his unlit cigarette bounced between his lips. 

He just had to get back to Downton.  No one liked him but at least he knew where he stood there.  Being despised was better than trying to find his footing in these shifting sands of death and pain. 

His hand slick with his own blood, Thomas closed his eyes and dreamed of green grass, blue sky, and the Yorkshire air. 

 

Jimmy was going to be his downfall.

Even after being beaten within an inch of his life, Thomas couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off of the man.

Love brought nothing but pain, he had known that for a long time now, but it was the glimmer of hope that really hurt.  Breathing through the taste of copper, Thomas let himself get swept up in a foolish dream. 

 

Life was impossible. 

There was only so long a broken, unfixable piece could rattle around before someone threw it away. 

Thomas tried to save the others the trouble but they wouldn’t let him, for some unconceivable reason. 

He woke up to Baxter standing vigil over his bed, and they all rotated in and out for the next few days to keep an eye on him.  Even Mr. and Mrs. Bates. 

When Lady Mary brought the kids to cheer him up, Thomas felt something click into place. 

 

He was a butler.

The whole house looked to him and he did his best to keep it wound and running on time. 

He expected perfection and everyone was happy to provide it.  When the new footman made a mistake, he quickly showed him how to fix it.  When Thomas made a mistake, the others had the good grace to give him a second chance.    

Life always balanced itself out in the end; the minutes ticked by, ever onwards towards the next year. 

 

His father was dead.      

Thomas took a day off to see the old bastard on his way, but he caught the first train in the morning. 

He needed to get back.  The house would be lost without him.    

**Author's Note:**

> i just want him to be happy.......please julian...let the one gay character on your show smile


End file.
